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"
Now
I
know
you
'll
tell
me
,
"
said
the
lady
.
"
The
names
of
the
first
two
disciples
were
--
"
"
DAVID
AND
GOLIAH
!
"
Let
us
draw
the
curtain
of
charity
over
the
rest
of
the
scene
.
About
half-past
ten
the
cracked
bell
of
the
small
church
began
to
ring
,
and
presently
the
people
began
to
gather
for
the
morning
sermon
.
The
Sunday-school
children
distributed
themselves
about
the
house
and
occupied
pews
with
their
parents
,
so
as
to
be
under
supervision
.
Aunt
Polly
came
,
and
Tom
and
Sid
and
Mary
sat
with
her
--
Tom
being
placed
next
the
aisle
,
in
order
that
he
might
be
as
far
away
from
the
open
window
and
the
seductive
outside
summer
scenes
as
possible
.
The
crowd
filed
up
the
aisles
:
the
aged
and
needy
postmaster
,
who
had
seen
better
days
;
the
mayor
and
his
wife
--
for
they
had
a
mayor
there
,
among
other
unnecessaries
;
the
justice
of
the
peace
;
the
widow
Douglass
,
fair
,
smart
,
and
forty
,
a
generous
,
good-hearted
soul
and
well-to-do
,
her
hill
mansion
the
only
palace
in
the
town
,
and
the
most
hospitable
and
much
the
most
lavish
in
the
matter
of
festivities
that
St.
Petersburg
could
boast
;
the
bent
and
venerable
Major
and
Mrs.
Ward
;
lawyer
Riverson
,
the
new
notable
from
a
distance
;
next
the
belle
of
the
village
,
followed
by
a
troop
of
lawn-clad
and
ribbon-decked
young
heart-breakers
;
then
all
the
young
clerks
in
town
in
a
body
--
for
they
had
stood
in
the
vestibule
sucking
their
cane-heads
,
a
circling
wall
of
oiled
and
simpering
admirers
,
till
the
last
girl
had
run
their
gantlet
;
and
last
of
all
came
the
Model
Boy
,
Willie
Mufferson
,
taking
as
heedful
care
of
his
mother
as
if
she
were
cut
glass
.
He
always
brought
his
mother
to
church
,
and
was
the
pride
of
all
the
matrons
.
The
boys
all
hated
him
,
he
was
so
good
.
And
besides
,
he
had
been
"
thrown
up
to
them
"
so
much
.
His
white
handkerchief
was
hanging
out
of
his
pocket
behind
,
as
usual
on
Sundays
--
accidentally
.
Tom
had
no
handkerchief
,
and
he
looked
upon
boys
who
had
as
snobs
.
The
congregation
being
fully
assembled
,
now
,
the
bell
rang
once
more
,
to
warn
laggards
and
stragglers
,
and
then
a
solemn
hush
fell
upon
the
church
which
was
only
broken
by
the
tittering
and
whispering
of
the
choir
in
the
gallery
.
The
choir
always
tittered
and
whispered
all
through
service
.
There
was
once
a
church
choir
that
was
not
ill-bred
,
but
I
have
forgotten
where
it
was
,
now
.
It
was
a
great
many
years
ago
,
and
I
can
scarcely
remember
anything
about
it
,
but
I
think
it
was
in
some
foreign
country
.
The
minister
gave
out
the
hymn
,
and
read
it
through
with
a
relish
,
in
a
peculiar
style
which
was
much
admired
in
that
part
of
the
country
.
His
voice
began
on
a
medium
key
and
climbed
steadily
up
till
it
reached
a
certain
point
,
where
it
bore
with
strong
emphasis
upon
the
topmost
word
and
then
plunged
down
as
if
from
a
spring-board
:
Shall
I
be
car-ri-ed
toe
the
skies
,
on
flow
'
ry
BEDS
of
ease
,
Whilst
others
fight
to
win
the
prize
,
and
sail
thro
'
BLOODY
seas
?
He
was
regarded
as
a
wonderful
reader
.
At
church
"
sociables
"
he
was
always
called
upon
to
read
poetry
;
and
when
he
was
through
,
the
ladies
would
lift
up
their
hands
and
let
them
fall
helplessly
in
their
laps
,
and
"
wall
"
their
eyes
,
and
shake
their
heads
,
as
much
as
to
say
,
"
Words
can
not
express
it
;
it
is
too
beautiful
,
TOO
beautiful
for
this
mortal
earth
.
"
After
the
hymn
had
been
sung
,
the
Rev.
Mr.
Sprague
turned
himself
into
a
bulletin-board
,
and
read
off
"
notices
"
of
meetings
and
societies
and
things
till
it
seemed
that
the
list
would
stretch
out
to
the
crack
of
doom
--
a
queer
custom
which
is
still
kept
up
in
America
,
even
in
cities
,
away
here
in
this
age
of
abundant
newspapers
.
Often
,
the
less
there
is
to
justify
a
traditional
custom
,
the
harder
it
is
to
get
rid
of
it
.
